Affairs
by nanaa127
Summary: It is hard to argue against a rumor when it's true. Or close enough to being true, anyway. Written for the August Fête des Mousquetaires challenge.


"Good morning, Madame Le Roux." Constance warmly greeted the plump, matronly woman behind the counter as she stepped into the bakery, a small bell announcing her arrival. The comforting, mouthwatering smell of yeast and hot sugar filled her nose as she shifted the empty basket on her arm. "What sort of tarts do you have today?"

Madame Le Roux gave the young woman a wan smile that did not reach her eyes. "Apricot and cheese," she replied.

"That sounds wonderful," Constance said. "I shall take two of each." D'Artagnan loved the cheese tarts.

"Of course. Please give me a moment." Madame Le Roux bustled out from behind the counter to greet another customer. It was a full ten minutes the baker's wife returned her attention to Constance.

"I'm sorry, my dear. What was it that you wanted?"

"Two apricot and two cheese tarts, if you please," Constance repeated. It took effort to keep her rising temper out of her voice. Alienating the baker's wife would serve no purpose other than to dry up the supply of her favorite sweets.

Constance waited patiently as Madame Le Roux wrapped up her purchase. "And how is your husband Monsieur Bonacieux? I pray that he is well?" the older woman asked pointedly. The sour note in her voice grated on Constance's nerves.

"He is, thank you for inquiring."

"Hmm." The baker's wife lifted an eyebrow as she exchanged the pastries for Constance's coins. "I do hope he enjoys these tarts."

"Oh. Yes, I'm certain he will." Constance fought to keep her cheeks from flushing pink. She had bought the treats for herself and D'Artagnan, but supposed that she could save one of the apricot pastries for her husband.

After thanking Madame Le Roux, she left the humid warmth of the bakery and stepped out into a busy street. It felt refreshingly cool outside, with a crisp, autumn breeze whisking through the buildings. She made her way to the market, which was in full swing despite the early morning hour. The avenue between the stalls was packed with servants and housewives shopping for the wares they'd need for the day, and the murmurs between vendors and potential customers haggling over prices filled the air. Constance breathed in deeply as she wandered through the crowd of people, her gaze sharply raking the carts for the items she needed. The rich, spicy scent of cooked sausages and the fresh scent of cut herbs mingled in her nose and suddenly made her quite hungry. She wanted to save the pastries to enjoy with D'Artagnan later, but perhaps a little snack was in order to sate her appetite.

A pile of beautiful red and green apples caught her eye and she made her way off the street and to the stall selling them. Two women that she recognized were standing near the fruit vendor, their heads close together and sharing what Constance was sure would be the latest gossip. She gave them a nod of acknowledgement to be polite, and the two women nodded back at her before returning to their conversation. Constance turned her attention to the fruit laid out before her. She hadn't been planning on buying more than one, but perhaps she could get a few more to share with D'Artagnan. Her husband was away for the day on business, and Constance wasn't certain as to how the Gascon was planning on occupying himself for the day, but perhaps they could share a meal together outside of the city, away from prying eyes.

"It is, it is. He's lodging with them, which is as good an excuse as any, I suppose." The idle whisper filtered into Constance's ear even as she turned the apples over, examining each one. She knew it was wrong. Her head told her so every day, but her heart didn't seem to care much. It was easier to ignore the pull D'Artagnan exerted on her when Bonacieux was at home, serving as a constant reminder of her status as a married woman. But when he was away...

"Well, I have eyes and he is a fine-looking man. I suppose I can see why she'd be tempted. But to sabotage a good marriage, and for what? A roll in the sheets with a pretty boy?"

Constance was not displeased with her life. At least, she hadn't thought she was. She was not well-to-do, but neither was she starving for her next meal. She did respectable work, and was given more freedom in her daily life than many other women she knew of in situations similar to her own. Jacques himself was not a cruel man. He could be thoughtless and narrow-minded, but by and large he was harmless and provided for her the best he could. Perhaps he was not the type of man she'd dreamt of when she was younger, but he was a stable, suitable husband for a woman such as herself. It should have been enough.

"Marion said her servant had seen the two of them brazenly kissing in the street the other night. Out in the open!"

D'Artagnan, on the other hand...he was foolish and stubborn, determined to get himself into trouble without a care or thought. He was a simple farmer, and Constance had no way of knowing whether his farm was successful or not. Considering that he was still in Paris while harvesting season was underway, she assumed that he had no intentions of returning to Gascony to tend to his land. Which meant that he was currently living off ambiguous means, and certainly explained why his rent payment was frequently late. She knew of his aspirations to become a Musketeer, and while it was obvious that Athos, Porthos and Aramis thought rather highly of him, he'd yet to earn his commission. He was completely inappropriate for her, and yet...

And yet. She could not help but love him.

"Yes, that's right, everyone knows. It's shameful, the way she treats her husband. Monsieur Bonacieux certainly deserves better."

Constance's attention snapped to the whispered conversation the two women were having when she realized that they were talking about _her._ Her eyes narrowed as she turned her gaze as towards them.

"Excuse me," she said, "What did you say?"

One of the women, a young lady named Annette, turned towards her and gave her a small, disdainful sniff before pasting a smile on her lips. She was younger than Constance herself by a few years. Annette was short and slight, with long, black hair that contrasted sharply with her pale skin. She was not a great beauty, but the set of her dark brown eyes had an exotic cast that rescued her from being completely plain. Although she looked meek, Constance knew from experience that Annette had quite the sharp tongue - sharper than her own. "Oh, Madame Bonacieux, it's nothing to concern yourself with. Just idle gossip."

"It concerns me when the subject of your gossip is me and my husband," Constance replied hotly, trying and failing to keep her annoyance in check. "What right do you have to speak of me in such a manner?"

Annette lifted her chin and raised an eyebrow in challenge. "If you do not want people discussing your behavior, perhaps you should learn to be more discreet."

"You shouldn't be discussing anything at all! It's rude and quite frankly, it is none of your business," Constance countered.

The other woman shrugged and gave her a sly smile. "They are just rumors, my dear Constance, and nothing more. If you are faithful to your husband, then you have nothing to worry over. It shall pass. But if the Gascon is indeed your lover..."

"What?" Constance gaped at the other woman, floored by her audacity. Her fingers tightened around the apple in her hand, her grip strong enough to bruise the delicate fruit. "Why I never - "

"Good afternoon, ladies." A familiar voice interrupted her prepared tirade and Constance whirled on the speaker.

"What is it you want now?"

To his credit, Aramis did not blink at Constance's less than friendly greeting. He swept off his hat and pressed it against his chest, giving the two women a respectful bow. "I'm terribly sorry for intruding on your conversation, but might I beg Madame Bonacieux for a moment of your time? The captain has an order he'd like to place with Monsieur Bonacieux and I cannot seem to locate him."

Constance's chest heaved as she wrestled with her distress. "Of course," she said as graciously as she could manage.

Aramis looked down at the injured fruit in Constance's hand. "Three apples please, Monsieur," he said to the vendor. He pulled a few coins from a small pouch and handed them over. He selected two unblemished, beautiful apples and handed one over to Annette with a little flourish and a charming smile. "For Mademoiselle. I hope you can forgive my interruption."

"Oh, I'm not so sure, Monsieur," Annette said, her face smooth and sweet. There was no trace of the vindictive tone that had laced her voice while speaking with Constance. It took all of Constance's willpower to refrain from rolling her eyes at the coy pout Annette flashed at the handsome Musketeer. "The fruit is lovely, but perhaps we could explore other ways for you to earn my forgiveness?"

The smile on Aramis' face never faltered. "That is a very tempting suggestion. Perhaps we could, some time in the future."

After Annette walked away, Aramis exchanged the bruised apple in Constance's hand for the fresh one he held and then took a large bite of the fruit that had been so angrily squeezed. He gave the young woman a cheeky smile, his mouth full of sweetness. "Shall we?"

As they ambled along the crowded avenue, Constance managed to calm herself enough to hold a civil conversation. "What was it that Tréville wanted?

"Hmm?" Aramis munched away on his rapidly dwindling snack, smiling and politely tipping his hat at the other pedestrians.

"You said the captain wanted to place an order with my husband."

"Oh, yes. Well..."

"There is no order, is there?" Constance abruptly stopped in her tracks. "Were you eavesdropping on my conversation?"

Aramis winced. "Well, I am not sure I was actually eavesdropping, as you were carrying on quite loudly in a public place."

Constance placed her hands on her hips as her eyes narrowed. The people on the street flowed around her and Aramis, like river water rippling around immovable stones. "How much did you overhear?"

Aramis' eyes darkened. "Enough."

"I don't need you to come to my rescue. I am not a helpless damsel in distress."

Aramis raised his hands in defense. "I would never think such a thing."

"My business should not concern them," Constance said, her frustration rising once more. She tried to keep herself from snapping, as it was not Aramis with whom she was angry. "It's not fair, you know. Men carry on with mistresses all the time and no one blinks an eye. For heaven's sake, you've had more than your fair share."

"I suppose that is true," Aramis murmured. He took her arm and gently resumed their stroll.

"Why, then, am I judged for my behavior when you are not?"

"Well, I am not married. You are," Aramis said mildly. "That alone makes a difference to many people."

Constance huffed. "There are plenty of married men that are unfaithful to their wives."

"Yes, there are."

"We haven't even done anything. Yet." Constance could feel the heat rising in her cheeks at the admission and the marksman glanced at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Sometimes being unfaithful does not require any sort of physical act. People expect you to be loyal to your wedded spouse, both in body and in mind." The Musketeer shook his head. "Although I agree that women are often condemned more soundly than men for the same actions, and that women bear heavier consequences. It is one of the many unenlightened aspects of our society, I'm afraid."

"It is utter nonsense," Constance muttered under her breath.

"Yes it is, but unfortunately that is the way of our world. At the moment, the only thing you can do is decide whether your apparently scandalous feelings are worth the betrayal of your marriage vows to your husband and the censure of nosy gossips."

Silence fell over them as Constance considered Aramis' advice. "It is not my intention to be cruel to my husband," she finally said.

"No one would ever accuse you of being cruel," Aramis replied, looking down at her with a sympathetic expression.

Constance knew that was not true, but she appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. "Jacques was not my choice for husband when we were married. I was so young when it happened. And now..."

"And now, you are older, wiser, and have acquired a better understanding of your own needs and desires," Aramis finished quietly. "Love does not respect the boundaries set by society or the church, but when it happens, it should be cherished and celebrated."

Constance looked up at the marksman. "Have you always loved all the women you've been involved with?"

"Yes, in one way or another. My love for one woman is never the same as it is for the next, but why should it be? Every woman is unique, and the quality that draws me to each one will always be different."

"And if you were married, would you still pursue your love for the women who are not your wife?" Constance asked, feeling bold.

The Musketeer gave her a wry smile. "It is far too early in the day to carry on with this particular line of questioning."

Constance chased after Aramis' evasion. "What would you do, if you were in my position?"

Aramis sighed as he pondered her question, his brow furrowed in serious thought. "I honestly cannot say," he finally replied. "What satisfies me may not be enough for you."

The young woman cast her eyes down, examining her slippered feet as they walked along. "If it was simply a matter of love, my decision would be much easier."

Aramis nodded. "There are always complications."

"Much more so for women than for men. Men will always have their independence. That is a luxury for women such as myself. If I left my husband for another man, and that man is unable to provide for me or dies..."

"I know." Aramis glanced at her, sincere compassion in his eyes. "Life would become very difficult."

Lost in thought, Constance came to a startled stop when she realized that Aramis had led them back to the garrison.

"I thought you were bringing me home?"

"Did you? And here I thought you were escorting _me_ home, which you have done to perfection. I thank you for the guidance and excellent company," Aramis said seriously. The corners of his lips, however, curled into a tiny, mischievous smile.

"Aramis? Constance! What are you doing here? Is everything all right?" D'Artagnan walked towards them when he spotted his two friends through the gates of the garrison.

"Of course! Madame Bonacieux and I happened upon each other at the market and enjoyed a peaceful morning stroll," Aramis said. "But now that I am here, I have very important matters to attend to." The marksman turned to Constance and bowed low, pressing a light kiss onto her knuckles. "Good day to you, madame."

Constance stared after Aramis as he sauntered away, entirely too pleased with himself, and the palm of her hand itched. The nerve of the man was stunning. But if she was completely honest with herself, she had to admit that she wasn't quite as upset with Aramis as she should have been.

"Constance? What is it? Did Aramis say something to you?"

"Hmm? No. Well, yes he did, but it was well-meant."

"I...see," D'Artagnan said, the expression on his face suggesting no such thing. Constance smiled up at him. He really was very handsome, this farm boy-turned-cadet who had quite literally stumbled into her life. There was something about him that drew her in a way that other men had never done before. It was difficult to remember that she'd had any reservations about her attraction towards D'Artagnan when he was standing so close to her, staring at her with dark, earnest eyes.

"What have you got in your basket, then? Anything good?"

"Pastries."

"They wouldn't happen to be cheese tarts?" The hope in the Gascon's voice made her laugh.

"Why yes, they would. Aren't you lucky?"

D'Artagnan grinned at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling with affection. "Yes, I absolutely am."

* * *

 _This is probably a very loose interpretation of the August theme...sorry if it didn't really fit! This story was borne out of my disappointment at D'Artagnan's reaction when Constance came to him with some very legitimate reasons as to why she couldn't leave her husband (at least, I'm pretty sure that's what the scene was about, but feel free to correct me if that's wrong). I tried to fix it with something a little more sympathetic. Thank you for reading!_


End file.
